Jessica Gilmore - In The Boss's Castle

In fact it’s been a really long time since anyone has seen me as anyone worth knowing. It gets a little lonely, to be honest, especially now that Faith is making it very clear that now she’s grown up she doesn’t need me to fuss over her.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time to put me first.

Starting with New York!

Enjoy London.

Love, Hope x

CHAPTER ONE

MADDISON CARTER OPENED the opaque glass door, leaned against the door frame and held up her perfectly manicured hand, a piece of paper dangling from her fingertips. ‘Messages,’ she announced.

Kit Buchanan pushed his chair away from his desk and blinked at her. His expression might seem sleepy and unconcerned to the casual observer but after just four weeks Maddison knew better. ‘You could email them to me,’ he suggested, a teasing gleam in his blue eyes. This conversation was getting as predictable as the sunrise. So she used paper and a pen and preferred her lists on thick white paper, not on an electronic device? It didn’t make her a Luddite, it made her efficient.

‘And have you ignore them? I think not.’

Kit sighed. The soft here she goes again sigh he used about this time every day. ‘But, Maddison, maybe I like ignoring messages.’ His eyes laughed up at her but she refused to smile back, even a little. She wasn’t colluding with him.

‘Then get an answering service. Or a machine or just answer your cell phone every once in a while and then I...’ she brandished the list ‘...I wouldn’t have to tell your girlfriends that you’re in a meeting twenty times a day.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Twenty times? How very keen.’

Okay, she might have exaggerated slightly but just one conversation with the terribly polite and terribly condescending Camilla was enough and three definitely enough to drive the most precise person to hyperbole. Maddison ignored the interruption and, in a deliberately slow voice, began to read from the paper. ‘Right, your mother called and said please call her back, today, and confirm you are going to the wedding, it’s a three-line whip and if you don’t RSVP soon she will do it for you. Your sister called and said, and I quote, “Tell him if I have to go to this damn wedding on my own I will make him suffer in ways he can’t even imagine and don’t think I won’t do it...”’

Maddison paused as she reread the words. She liked the sound of Kit’s sister, Bridget, with her soft, lilting voice and steely words.

‘And Camilla called three times, can you please answer your cell, how can she expect to get ready for a wedding in just a couple of weeks if you won’t even confirm that you’re taking her, you inconsiderate bas...’ She looked up and allowed herself one brief smile. ‘I didn’t catch the rest of that sentence.’

‘The hell you didn’t,’ he said softly. The smile still curved his mouth and he was still leaning back in the vast, black leather chair but the glint had disappeared from his eyes. ‘Everyone seems very keen to make sure I attend this wedding.’

‘If you would just RSVP they’d stop calling.’ Maddison didn’t care whether he went to the darn wedding or not. She just wanted to stop fielding calls about it.

‘I will, as soon as I’ve decided.’

‘Decided?’

‘Whether I’m going or not.’

Maddison heaved a theatrical sigh. ‘Great. Can I beg you to do just one thing? Put Camilla out of her misery.’ Sure, the woman spoke to Maddison as if she were some sort of servant, and sure, she sounded like a snooty character in a Hugh Grant movie, all clipped vowels and lots of long r’s, but she was getting a little more desperate with every call. Maddison would never allow herself to beg for a man’s attention but she knew all too well what it felt like to see the spark die even as she did her best to keep it going. Knew what it felt like to see the emails and texts diminish, hear the call go straight to voicemail.

Kit stared at her, his eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t know that advising on my personal life was in your job description.’

Maddison took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. ‘Nor did I and yet here I am, taking calls from your girlfriend eight hours a day.’

‘Ex-girlfriend.’

‘She...what?’

His eyes caught hers, the blue turned steely. ‘Ex-girlfriend. She just wants to come to the wedding. Thinks if I take her to meet the parents then things might start again between us. So you see, I’m not a total git.’

Whatever that might be. Maddison stared down at the list, her righteous indignation draining away. ‘Okay. I apologize—although in my defence it seems that Camilla doesn’t understand the ex part of your relationship. Maybe she needs reminding. And you really should call your mother.’

He didn’t respond for a long moment and Maddison kept her eyes on the list, knowing she had gone too far. She was normally so good at keeping her cool but Kit Buchanan was just so...so provoking.

She started at his unexpected laugh. ‘There are times when you remind me of my school matron. I will, I promise. How are things looking for tonight?’

The abrupt turn of subject was a relief. She had spent far too long today on Kit Buchanan’s social life; work was a much safer subject. Maddison looked at her list again, composing herself as she did so. ‘The caterers are already there and setting up, so are the bar staff. The warehouse confirmed that they have sent two hundred books across ready for the signing. I got late acceptances from five people, their names have been added to the entrance list and the door staff are primed; three people sent in late apologies, I replied on your behalf and arranged for books and goody bags to be sent to their offices. Oh, and I popped into the venue last night after work and took a last look around. Everything is in order.’

‘Very efficient, as always, thank you, Maddison.’ The words were perfect but the amusement in his tone took the edge off his praise and despite herself she could feel her cheeks flush. Kit always seemed to be laughing at her and it was...unsettling. She wanted respect, not this knowing humour. But so far, no matter what she did, respect seemed to be eluding her. And, dammit, it rankled. She was usually so much better at impressing the right people in the right ways.

She certainly wasn’t used to feeling discombobulated several times a day.

She eyed her boss. He was still lounging back in his chair, an unrepentant gleam in his eye as he waited for her response. Hoping that she would lose her cool, no doubt. Well, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction but, oh, her fingers curled; it was tempting.

It didn’t help that Kit was young—ish. Handsome if you liked brown tousled hair that needed a good cut, dark stubble and blue eyes, if you found scruffy chic, like some hipster cross between a college professor and an outdoorsman, attractive. Maddison didn’t. She liked her men clean-cut, clean-shaven and well turned out.

But, even if he wore head-to-toe couture, Kit Buchanan still wouldn’t be her type. Bart was her type: tall, athletic, with a good job in banking, a trust fund and a bloodline that ran back to Edith Wharton’s innocent age and beyond. Not to mention the brownstone. Breaking up with the brownstone was almost harder than saying goodbye to the man. She’d invested eighteen months in that relationship, spent eighteen months moulding herself into the perfect consort. All for nothing. She was back at square one.

Although, he had said a break. Maddison clung on to those words, hope soothing the worry and doubt clawing her insides. Everyone knew that taking a break wasn’t the same thing as breaking up. And if Bart saw that she was having an amazing time in London without him then surely he would realize he had made a very big mistake? Maybe this distance, this time apart was a good thing, the push he needed to take things to the next level.